


Shorn

by yfere



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Caduceus has wool, M/M, Nonsexual Nudity, Nothing bad will happen in the Nott arc no no no, Pre-Relationship, Set later in the campaign when things are presumably good, gift-giving, so--sheeple I guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-21
Updated: 2019-01-21
Packaged: 2019-10-14 04:04:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17501192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yfere/pseuds/yfere
Summary: A man who is terrible at shaving himself helps another man who is just as bad.





	Shorn

It was early spring, Caleb was crouched on the ground, drawing them a teleportation circle to Yussa, and Caduceus was panting so loudly he was finding it difficult to concentrate.

  
Caleb frowned, and drew a few more symbols. The panting grew louder. He looked up.

  
“Herr Clay, are you all right?”

  
“I’m—all right,” Caduceus said. Caleb squinted at him doubtfully. The firbolg’s eyes looked glassy, and Caleb could see a gummy line of spit rimming the inside of his lips. He was probably dehydrated, at the very least.

  
Just as he was thinking this, Jester called out. “Caduceus! Do you need some wateeeeeeeeer?”

  
Caduceus fingered his waterskin, which Caleb could now see was empty, and grimaced like he’d been caught out. “I wouldn’t say no. It’s—very hot.”

  
It _was_ unseasonably warm. Caleb wasn’t quite ready to rid himself of his heavy coat yet, for fear the weather would turn, but his arms were sticky with sweat as he worked. He imagined it must be worse for Caduceus, who seemed far more suited to cold weather than warm. It would be a relief to be in Nicodranas, to have the opportunity to bathe and rest somewhere cool.

  
The panting grew fainter as Caduceus loped over to Jester, who scolded him for not preparing any food or water spells.

  
“It’s because he prepares us _actual healing spells_ ,” Nott said.

  
Caleb smiled, and completed the circle.

  
__________

 

Caleb had hoped to bargain with Yussa on Nott’s behalf. _I can’t go back until I’m_ _changed. Not really,_ she had said, and so he’d asked. And Yussa had refused, saying he had to earn his own spells and cast it himself, and so Caleb had offered to exchange, to teach some of the dunamancy he’d learned from the North and the dodecahedron. He showed him a glass vial of dunamis, one of the better ones Yeza had made. But Yussa only refused him again, this time with far less explanation. He’d been gracious with everything else—the Happy Fun Ball, their small rooms on the lower levels—and maybe it was that graciousness that frustrated Caleb most, in the end. He had more practice maintaining a mask of politeness by this point, but it was a near thing for him to arrive at Caduceus’ door without shouting or kicking something down along the way.

  
He wasn’t entirely sure what he wanted, coming there. Part of it was that he didn’t want to break the news to Nott, no doubt, but part of it must also have been the simple fact that he was upset, and Caduceus such a calming, no-nonsense presence. One could not remain angry at anything around him. Nor could one really dwell on pain, a feeling which tugged at Caleb even here, after everything. Caduceus had a voice that rumbled like the crick that had once run behind Caleb’s home in a heavy rain, and a manner that took the sting out of the association. It was a lucky thing that Caleb could always seek him out with the excuse of looking for tea. And he couldn’t deny that the Blooming Grove weighed on his mind with the changing of the seasons. Before, it had been a patch of spring in a cold and foreboding wood. What about now? Perhaps Caduceus was communicating with Nila—

  
Caduceus murmured his assent for Caleb to come inside, and Caleb walked in, to find—Caduceus, shirt off, holding what appeared to be a large knife, with a nasty cut on his chest, blood soaking into—

  
Before Caleb even knew what he was doing, he’d made it across the room and wrestled the knife out of Caduceus’ hands. As he began frantically scanning the room for an enemy, muttering a _dispel_ under his breath, Caduceus put a hand on his shoulder.

  
“Mr. Caleb. Calm down. I can heal myself, you know,” he said, and Caleb watched wide-eyed as Caduceus slowly lifted his other hand to touch his slashed chest. The familiar bloom of lichen sprouted in his blood and crumbled away, leaving his chest unscathed. Caduceus raised his eyebrows at him. “Now, may I have those back, please?”

  
Caleb looked down at what he was holding. A pair of shears.

  
_Oh_.

  
“I’m—terribly sorry, Herr Clay,” he stammered, surrendering them.

  
“It’s quite all right. I can see that you’re on edge,” Caduceus said. He looked down at the part of his chest bared of wool, and frowned. “I’m flattered by your concern, actually. The truth is I’ve never been the best at doing this on my own. But, I’ve been putting it off for long enough. I won’t be able to function if the weather gets any warmer.”

  
“I have a tendency to nick myself while shaving as well. It’s usually better for me to not attempt it,” Caleb admitted. He rubbed his beard self-consciously. Nott insisted it made him look distinguished, but Caleb suspected it in fact made him look a little ratty. And old. “Do you know, our barbarian friend once gave me a shave with her greatsword?”

 

Caduceus’ hands nearly slipped again. “That is _not_ the correct tool to use,” he said.

 

“Ah, I would not be so quick to dismiss it. She is quite the skilled barber.”

  
Caduceus chuckled, then sighed. “Sometimes I feel like I’ve missed out on too much, with you people. I wish I’d met you earlier. But…I’m sorry. You came to talk with me about something, didn’t you? I’ve been waiting for you to say what it was.”

  
“Not anything in particular. I wouldn’t want to distract you while you are busy.”

  
“I let you in,” Caduceus reminded him. Then he blinked, eyes sliding to his shirt, draped over the chair next to the bed where he sat. “Unless this embarrasses you?”

  
“Not at all,” Caleb said. “If you are willing, you may hand those shears back over to me while we talk. I’ve sheared a few sheep in my time. Not that—um.”

  
“It’s not the same,” Caduceus said. “But it’s similar. All right.”

 

 

While Caleb had sheared before, he’d never been much of an expert. Were he confronted with an actual sheep, he might have managed it in ten or fifteen minutes at most. But Caduceus was nearly twice the size of a sheep, for all that he was more still and accommodating, and filled with far more strange angles than Caleb had ever encountered. The techniques from the Fields that Caleb had memorized with clockwork precision didn’t really apply. But Caleb was in no rush in any case. It was enough to look down at his hands while he worked, and listen to Caduceus’ rumbling, rushy voice.

  
He hit a particularly ugly snarl of wool in Caduceus’ mid-back, and Caduceus admitted that it had been more than just a spring since he’d last taken care of places like that, where he couldn’t reach. “The first year, I went to Shady Creek,” Caduceus said. “There are people who do that sort of thing for a living. But I didn’t like it.”

  
“Being away from your home? Or—not having your family do it for you?”

  
“I’m not sure there’s much of a difference.”

  
Caleb hummed, and worked towards Caduceus’ hips, and asked about the Grove. Then his family. He learned Caduceus used his father’s name when he wanted to pretend to be someone else. He imagined calling himself _Leofric_ , and shuddered.

  
“You’re a lot freer with your questions than you used to be. It’s nice,” Caduceus said.

  
Caleb paused, then pulled down another section of wool. “Well, I don’t have quite so much I have to worry about saying, now,” he said quietly. “So I’m more free to indulge my curiosity.”

"I can tell it's still difficult for you. I'm glad you're doing it anyway."

 

 

They needed Caduceus’ pants removed for the next part, and if Caleb worried that any of this would embarrass, it was this. Thankfully, though, Caduceus seemed to think as little of stripping as Caleb himself did. He moved his penis obligingly out of the way as Caleb sheared around it, and was mostly quiet—he only gave a little sigh as Caleb nudged him to lie on his stomach.

  
“Something on your mind?”

 

“Hm?” Caduceus sounded like he’d just been pulled out of drowsing. “Not really. Skin’s a little sensitive underneath, is all.”

  
Caleb examined his bare flesh. It looked a little strange without the heavy coat of wool—still grey, but knobby and textured. He poked at a raised ridge of skin on his side, and Caduceus shifted, made a wheezing sound Caleb recognized as a laugh.

  
“Oh, so you are ticklish, then?”

  
“ _Mr. Caleb_ —” Caduceus gasped as Caleb poked him again, “You’re not going to force me to begin sleeping in my armor, are you?”

  
Caleb leaned over to whisper in Caduceus’ ear. “ _Constant vigilance,_ ” he said, then blew in it.

  
Caduceus bucked so hard it sent Caleb toppling off the bed, in hysterics. By the time he got a hold of himself, Caduceus was standing over him, a frustrated smile affixed to his face.

  
“I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself,” he drawled. “Are you finished?”

 

“ _N—nein,_ ” Caleb said, biting back a giggle. “I still have to do your thighs. You need to lie back down.”

  
Caduceus eyed him with suspicion, but did as asked. Caleb grinned.

 

 

 

When they finished, Caleb gave Caduceus a little pat on the cheek, and abruptly realized.

  
“Your face?”

  
“I don’t shear the wool here,” Caduceus said. “It’s simple enough to keep it trimmed.”

  
Caleb imagined Caduceus’ face, bald and skinny from shearing, and let out a guffaw. “I bet you do. So you are ticklish _and_ vain—I am learning many things about you today, Caduceus Clay. Are you sure you wouldn’t rather—” he mimed bringing the shears to Caduceus’ beard.

  
Caduceus glared at him. “I’m learning many things about you today as well. I’m not sure if I’m happy about that.”

 

The next task, Caduceus said, cross-legged and still undressed, was to grade and sort the wool. Caleb thought he might be good at this task—sorting was the kind of thing he found enjoyable—but Caduceus cheerfully informed him that he’d overstayed his welcome and he was sent on his way. Time to speak with Nott, then. He found, though, that the thought didn’t depress him quite as much as it had an hour ago. Surely they would be all right, whether Yussa helped them or not.

__________

 

It was several weeks later, and they were preparing camp by the side of the road when Caduceus approached him, two items in hand.

  
“I’ve been meaning to thank you for your help before, Mr. Caleb,” he said warmly. “It took a bit of time to prepare these, though.”

  
“There’s really no need—”

  
“This one,” Caduceus said, interrupting to press a tin into Caleb’s hand, “I had some help from Nott with. It’s a lanolin cream, and should help with dry skin, or with burns.”

  
“…Oh.”

  
“ _This_ one, I did on my own,” he said, and draped a woolen scarf over Caleb’s other arm. It was a creamy greyish color, with pink, swirling embroidered designs. When Caleb ran a hand along it, he found it was almost unbearably soft.

  
“We haven’t had quite the weather for it yet, I’m afraid,” Caduceus said. “But I thought you would need a replacement, when the time came.”

  
Caleb was finding it very difficult to speak. “Thank—thank you, Herr Clay,” he managed, at last. Was he shaking? It seemed much more difficult to hold the tin in his hand, all of a sudden.

  
Caduceus’ smile was blindingly bright. “It was the least I could do. Maybe I’ll be depending on you next spring, as well.”

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you think! <3


End file.
